


The Gallows gets Fuzzy

by 17734



Series: Hilarity in the Gallows [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, F/M, baseless accusations, cats with regrettable names, inappropriate relations with a crossbow, mentions of strip wicked grace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2306024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17734/pseuds/17734
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meredith liked the cat. The cat liked Meredith. It would have been a mutually blissful relationship but there was one little problem. </p><p>The cat had a…thing for First Enchanter Orsino.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gallows gets Fuzzy

**Author's Note:**

> Another attempt at humor- really not my strong point, sorry. It seems amusing enough in reread. I hope you enjoy. :D

“Hawke!” Anders cried, shoving his way past Bodahn and rushing into the sitting room. “You have to help me! It’s terrible! Spirits of righteousness everywhere are screaming at this injustice!”

He paused midstep, taking in the sight before him. Marian Hawke was lounging in an armchair before the fire, a neat stack of whiskey glasses resting upsidedown on a circular table next to her. In adjoining chairs around the table sat Isabela and Varric, both with their own stacks. A beat up set of cards lay scattered in the table’s center. All three players of the game were minus a few clothes.

Anders’ brow furrowed. “What in the Maker’s name are you doing?” he asked, dragging his eyes away from Hawke’s toned, naked legs.

“Isabela and I are trying to seduce Varric,” Hawke replied amicably. “Bianca is in the shop for repairs so we figured now was our chance.”

“I keep telling you, Hawke,” Varric spoke up humbly, “I am a faithful guy. And no one in their right mind would cheat on a crossbow.”

“No one in their right mind would screw a crossbow either,” Isabela pointed out, eyeing Varric lasciviously. “Or is it a ‘chaste romance‘?”

“The next person to say ‘chaste romance’ gets eviscerated!” Hawke announced viciously, filled a new whiskey glass and threw back a shot. “That includes DLC writers who work for Bioware. So how about it, Anders? Want to join us?”

“In playing a game of strip Wicked Grace?” Anders repeated incredulously. He ran his hands tensely over his feathered pauldrons and wet his dry lips.

“No, you dunce,” Isabela corrected slyly, “in seducing Varric.”

“I think Blondie has his eye on Fenris,” Varric asserted. Hawke and Isabela burst into peals of throaty laughter, the sort that only truly debauched women could pull off.

“No,” Anders spluttered, mortified, “just no! And I’m not here to watch Hawke strip- or- or to play cards. I’m here because of Knight Commander Meredith!”

“So you want to see the Knight Commander strip,” Isabela concluded.

“Can’t blame him,” Hawke mused.

Anders grit his teeth, a few veins of blue energy rippling across his teeth. “This is serious.”

“I don’t mean to kill the mood,” Varric said diplomatically, “but maybe we should listen to what he has to say, ladies. The mage is getting his glow on.”

“What seems to be the problem, Anders?” Hawke inquired, shooting the healer a lazy look.

Anders released a long breath, calming himself down. “I recently got some new information,” he said quietly, “from one my contacts in the Circle. I thought it was going to be a normal report, honestly, but one of the details jumped out at me. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. It’s too horrible to contemplate.” He looked around at the sobering expressions of his friends. “The Knight Commander is holding hostage one of the most innocent creatures imaginable. _She has a cat._ ”

Isabela choked, bursting out into laughter. “Maker, Anders, you really had me going for a moment!” she cackled, rocking back in her chair. Dead silence followed. She paused. “No,” she realized in disbelief. “Your _serious?_ ”

“Andraste’s mercy, yes, I’m serious!” Anders snapped. “A cat, Isabela! That templar bitch is keeping a cat in her evil clutches! We have to save it!” He stalked forward, standing in front of the fire place so that he had their complete attention. “I’ve made plans, talked to some people on the inside. If we go tomorrow night, we can get into the Gallows undetected. A group of four concentrated on stealth would be perfect. We’ll break into the Knight Commander’s rooms, rescue the feline and be out before anyone notices us.” He inhaled slowly, his eyes blazing with determination. “How about it, Hawke?”

Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, leaning back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other. “Anders…” she said with a long, suffering sigh, “get the fuck out of my house. And take your crazy with you.”

 

o0O0o

 

Meredith liked the cat. The cat liked Meredith. It would have been a mutually blissful relationship but there was one little problem.

The cat had a…thing for First Enchanter Orsino.

Thus, whilst sitting at her desk, surveying the offensive sight of Sister Fuzzypaws curled up in the elven mage’s lap, the Knight Commander began searching for answers. Orsino sat blithely across from her, reading a standard report on the misconduct of his mages and scratching the cat’s ears. Meredith scowled, crossing her arms over her breastlpate and furrowing her brow. Sister Fuzzypaws purred loudly, eyes shut in euphoric happiness. The low rumble of satisfaction was the only sound in the office.

“Felines have superior instincts,” Meredith stated crisply, causing Orsino to look up from his paper. “They can sense things- no, it’s true, First Enchanter. There have been reports of cats avoiding areas where the Veil is thin or showing distress when a spirit is about.” She raised an eyebrow. “Correspondingly, I am curious as to why my cat hasn’t detected your blatant corruption and depravity.”

“And this musing of yours is more important than the apprentice who snuck into the templar barracks to put itching powder in everyone’s socks?” Orsino inquired blandly.

“That happens at least three times a month,” Meredith dismissed. “Tell me how you blinded Sister Fuzzypaws to your evil.”

Orsino’s mouth twitched at the corners as he fought a laugh. Meredith glared daggers at him. It took him a moment to regain his composure but he was remarkably straight-faced when he did. “I love the name, Knight Commander,” he praised. “It’s so…unique.”

“Answer my question,” she stressed.

Orsino looked down at the cat, rubbing Sister Fuzzypaws’ jaw with one, long finger. “What magic could possibly interfere with these _superior_ senses?” he inquired innocently. The cat purred. “Maybe I’m not evil, corrupt and depraved at all. You should reconsider your opinion of me, Meredith.”

“Not likely,” she replied shortly. She steepled her fingers on the desk top, thoughts turning in her head. “How did you do it? Sister Fuzzypaws can’t possibly like you just because of your basic traits. Certainly, you’re attractive, you smell nice and your voice is very calming- when you’re not ranting about mage rights- but plenty of holier, less wicked people can claim that much.”

“That was surprisingly complimentary-” Orsino blinked.

Meredith continued, cutting him off. “Maybe she sees as you as similar to her. Pointy ears, a penchant for soft luxurious clothing, purring when you’re stroked just the right way-”

  
“Are you _offering?_ ” he asked, a hitch in his voice.

“No,” Meredith tossed away her theories. “It has to be blood magic.”

Orsino pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “I knew it was impossible for me to have a good day.”

The Knight Commander retrieved a fresh sheet of parchment and dipped her quill into her inkpot. “I’m authorizing an investigation,” she informed him, scribbling away, “on the basis that you’ve used blood magic to win my cat’s affections.”

“Make two copies,” Orsino retorted, “so that I can send one to the Chantry and listen as all the sisters laugh at you.”

“There is nothing funny about illegal magic,” Meredith snipped. Sister Fuzzypaws purred more loudly and began rubbing her face against Orsino’s chest. Meredith paused her writing and sighed. “It’s despicable that you would bewitch such an innocent creature.”

“As usual, Knight Commander,” Orsino deadpanned, “you are completely wrong. No blood magic whatsoever is involved.”

“It’s the only explanation I can think of,” she stated.

“Think harder,” he said, reaching into his breast pocket and tossing a tiny pouch down onto the desk. Sister Fuzzypaws dove for it.

“And what’s that?” Meredith demanded.

“Catnip,” he told her.

“Oh,” she said. She crumpled up her half-written authorization. “It seems I accused you wrongly, Orsino. I am sorry.”

“Apology accepted, Knight Commander,” he said graciously.

“Rather than using blood magic, you cleverly utilized herbs to achieve your goals,” she concluded. “With this in mind, it is not too far a stretch to assume you have been poisoning and drugging my templars whenever it suits you.” She retrieved a new sheet of parchment. “I’m authorizing an investigation of recent illnesses contracted by my knights and whether or not they could have been induced by magical herbs.”

Orsino groaned, putting his head down on her desk. “Can we _please_ just go back to apprentices and socks?”


End file.
